My hand quaked in fear and yet some queer form of anticipation, Marvis thought. When I took the shot I wanted to kill the man, the villain, he continued. The old and yet distinguished revolver was in good enough condition to place a killing blow. Marvis didn't know anything about guns specifically. He had a steady aim when it came to the little bit of hunting back in his home village. The men of the village were all trained to hunt with bows and guns, and even taught how to skin and prepare beasts. But Marvis left his village before he became a full-fledged man of the village. So, he didn't have the skills to actually prepare even a small hare. But he could shoot and kill, or so he thought.
A loud blast went off and when Marvis opened his eyes he saw three men a few feet down the road. The dirt around their feet kicked up as they took off leading into the fray of combat. Out of all three of them only one had a firearm in his hand. Marvis felt like everything had slowed down and moved at half speed. He looked about and saw his friends to his left, violence and fear plastered across their faces. Or at least that's what Marv thought he saw. And then he looked back at the three ruffians, the old Espanol woman sat in the dirt, like a kid shaping a mud pie. Tears filled the ravines of her face that looked like a topographical map of New Mexico.
A second blast went off. This one was the second bullet in the chamber of Marv's gun. It rotated the chamber and the gun cocked again. But the previous two shots went whizzing past the gunman. The first one passed by on his left, the second on the right. There was an instinctual pull in his muscles, like his mind and body agreed he shouldn't take the life of this nameless man. Maybe he had a family or some friends. And then all of the moments in time seemed to catch up with Marvis all at once. With in what seemed like only a few seconds and a flash of light Marvis looked about the broken remnants of a highway, where vines and overgrowth had broken the slabs of black and gray road into a dozens or so pieces every couple yards. The sun was bright as it poured over the quiet of the aftermath. Three dead bodies lay on the ground, arrows sticking out of some of their bodies like little white flags of surrender.
I didn't kill anyone, and yet why do I feel worse... Marvis contemplated. They could have killed me, he thought, they could have killed my friends. He said only to himself 'friends' but his eyes were staring only at Bindi, who stood they with the wind blowing through her fiery hair and the sun poured over her pale skin. Her bow was wrapped under her arm and she glanced about with what appeared to be absent-minded contentment.
Marvis sunk into the ground, and dropped his gun. Hope dripped from his fingertips and he sat down with his legs crossed. The others in the group quickly reacted to the rest of the situation at hand. Roland approached the older woman and asked her how she fared. But the fear of the attack overwhelmed her and she ran in a continued panic away from the mess of the situation. And Brad played vulture on the corpses and even pulled free Bindi's arrows and brought them over to her. But Marvis was too distracted. Distracted by nothing and everything.
A loud blast went off and when Marvis opened his eyes he saw three men a few feet down the road. The dirt around their feet kicked up as they took off leading into the fray of combat. Out of all three of them only one had a firearm in his hand. Marvis felt like everything had slowed down and moved at half speed. He looked about and saw his friends to his left, violence and fear plastered across their faces. Or at least that's what Marv thought he saw. And then he looked back at the three ruffians, the old Espanol woman sat in the dirt, like a kid shaping a mud pie. Tears filled the ravines of her face that looked like a topographical map of New Mexico.
A second blast went off. This one was the second bullet in the chamber of Marv's gun. It rotated the chamber and the gun cocked again. But the previous two shots went whizzing past the gunman. The first one passed by on his left, the second on the right. There was an instinctual pull in his muscles, like his mind and body agreed he shouldn't take the life of this nameless man. Maybe he had a family or some friends. And then all of the moments in time seemed to catch up with Marvis all at once. With in what seemed like only a few seconds and a flash of light Marvis looked about the broken remnants of a highway, where vines and overgrowth had broken the slabs of black and gray road into a dozens or so pieces every couple yards. The sun was bright as it poured over the quiet of the aftermath. Three dead bodies lay on the ground, arrows sticking out of some of their bodies like little white flags of surrender.
I didn't kill anyone, and yet why do I feel worse... Marvis contemplated. They could have killed me, he thought, they could have killed my friends. He said only to himself 'friends' but his eyes were staring only at Bindi, who stood they with the wind blowing through her fiery hair and the sun poured over her pale skin. Her bow was wrapped under her arm and she glanced about with what appeared to be absent-minded contentment.
Marvis sunk into the ground, and dropped his gun. Hope dripped from his fingertips and he sat down with his legs crossed. The others in the group quickly reacted to the rest of the situation at hand. Roland approached the older woman and asked her how she fared. But the fear of the attack overwhelmed her and she ran in a continued panic away from the mess of the situation. And Brad played vulture on the corpses and even pulled free Bindi's arrows and brought them over to her. But Marvis was too distracted. Distracted by nothing and everything.